Misfortunes of a Fop

Tom Tug a tar, with toddy half-seas over, Espi'd Jack Tinsel just arrived from Dover, Zounds, Dick, says he, observe the fail a-head, Full rigg'd by Jove, with all his canvass spread, Tho' damn his eyes, the bouger's not from France— Come, lend a hand, we'll learn him how to dance. Tom straight accosted in the seaman's stile, And Jack—your humble Sir—with modern smile; "What ship, my heart!" The fop he look'd about; Tom wanted nothing but to have a rout. " Come strike my lad, and shew your neat disguise, " What—finer than our Captain! damn your eyes!" Jack trembling stood and wonder'd what I meant, Pray, d to the pope and then invok'd each fair. But all in vain, for Tom must have his bout, When grog is in all nonsense will be out. Strip! was the word, and Jack must here comply, Poor fine dress'd gentleman! observe him cry While mirthful Tom and comrades laugh to se Half-naked Jack appear in true degree: His fine lace ruffles to his finger ends From half bleach'd sheeting thin and raw depends; Nor in his waistcoat backs of any kind; His green silk breeches grafted blue behind, With all his trappings of a piece with these, Behind a fright, before designed to please.— But Tom thought Jack had punishment complete, To be the scoff and scandal of the street, Turn'd him a-drift and charg'd him as a friend, His dress to alter and his sense to mend; It costs you more, by Jove, to make you fools, Than 'twould to get you learning from the schools.